


Icarus

by 404_Error (Stressed_Depressed_Mildly_Possessed)



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Written for my Greek Unit in English, scenes of death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 09:19:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17057066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stressed_Depressed_Mildly_Possessed/pseuds/404_Error
Summary: There is a bitter sense of glee in drowning when you should be flying





	Icarus

**He loved him as Icarus loved the sun - too close, too much; But godling, will you be there when he takes the fall?**

He’s standing in a field. The grass is soft under his feet. The sun is warm on his face. A gentle breeze weaves through his hair and pushes softly against his wings -

_-And he’s falling, unforgiving winds ripping at his feathers and the merciless sun beating down on his torn skin, the churning sea beneath him reaching up to grasp at him as he tumbles from the sky. A scream tears from his throat, loud and high and pained. The blue sky reflects in his eyes and he can just barely see the outline of another being, falling after him with their arms outstretched -_

“Icarus.” The sky calls. Icarus turns.

“Yes?”

“There’s someone here to see you, child.”

Icarus nods and makes the climb back up to the temple, the rocks digging into his hands, and gently touches the keystone on his way inside. Smoke burns in his lungs-

_-Melting feathers are sticking to his arms, to his torso, to his face, coating the inside of his mouth with the sickening taste of burning. His wings are melting like they are waxen, filling his mind until the only thing he can remember is pain. The ground had never seemed so far away. The figure grows closer. He can see the fear in their eyes. He reaches out for them -_

The person sitting on the other side of the chair sparks something in his mind. Memories of laughter, of running through golden-gilded halls, of sparring and of training, of trading injuries and kisses under the burning summer sun, their skin soaked in sweat and weapons discarded around their feet, his hands slowly moving down his arms-

_-And they grab him by the hand. Pulls him close to their body, their arms around his torso. Feathers trail in their wake, and fabric whips in the wind rushing around them. Eyes the color of the dawn stare down at him, full of fear and yet so much warmer than the Eden summer-_

Golden eyes stare at him from across the table. Icarus stares back.

“Do you remember me?” The man with the golden eyes asks, a small smile played across his lips.

“Yes,” Icarus breathes, and his heart is burning against his ribcage, crawling up his throat,

_**“Apollo.”** _

Apollo stands from his chair, and Icarus moves to stand by his side. Then Apollo’s hands are on his body, in his hair, clutching at his face, his skin as warm as the sun he governs, and then his lips are on Apollo’s, and they are so close and there is no distinction between who is godly and who is mortal -

_\- Their skin burns against his, burns worse than the harness kissing scars into his back, and he wraps his arms around them and throws his head back in a screaming laugh. Wax and blood run rivulets down his skin, painted golden in the burning of the sun. The being holding him in their arms beats their wings furiously, but the sky is unforgiving and they have to let him go. He plummets though the sky laughing, reaching out for the gods above, but no one reaches back, and he is left grasping at the thinning air-_

Apollo pulls away first, fire burning in his sun-golden eyes. And Icarus feels fear, terror shooting through his veins like the arrows of Apollo’s bow, when he looks into the eyes of the god he loves. But he loves Apollo, and there is no going back once you love something that will never die.

“Icarus,” Apollo says, his warm hands against his face, “I am sorry.”

“There was nothing you could do, Apollo,” He lies, and he can see the pain in the set of Apollo’s jaw. The look in the god’s eyes rivals the emotions of the sea-

_-The ocean steals away his breath when his back hits the surface, and the unforgiving sea sucks him beneath the cold waves. He tries to call out for Poseidon, but the god does not answer; they never answer. Salt burns in his lungs and in his eyes, and he can feel the blood in his veins mixing with the currents wrapping around his body. He gasps for the breath he no longer needs, limbs churning through blood no longer his own. For he loves a god, and that alone keeps him from dying. What pain there is, to love a man you cannot have-_

Apollo slowly backs away, his skin radiating, and Icarus does not look away when the god disappears in a flash of heavenly light. Tears sting in his eyes, but he has long since learned that you do not cry over the being who will forget you. Apollo will move on, but Icarus will not-

_-His heart hammers in his chest. Water pushes against his lungs, pressing down on his organs, as he sinks to the bottom of the sea. Sunbeams cut through the water at the surface, painting it gold. This, he knows, is his punishment for loving something so much brighter than himself, for loving a thing that cannot die with him. He opens his mouth and stares up at the sunbeams that cut through the water, and he screams for the god he will never hold in his arms-_

**There is a bitter sense of glee in drowning when you should be flying, Icarus**

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for my Greek Classics unit in my English course but the teacher wouldn't let me share it. Now that the semester is over she said I'd be allowed.


End file.
